


the maiden

by 님 (nymmiah)



Series: dotharli [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Gen, Misgendering, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Not Canon Compliant, Other, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26207158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymmiah/pseuds/%EB%8B%98
Summary: Born Dotharli and raised without a past, her blood sings for battle and her heart lusts for absolution--and it is for that reason she ventures forth into the world, to uncover her story and her past.In which the Warrior of Light is less and more than one could have hoped. Follows along the MSQ.
Relationships: Ardbert & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Haurchefant Greystone & Warrior of Light, Sadu Dotharl & Warrior of Light, Scions of the Seventh Dawn & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: dotharli [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922356
Comments: 18
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a plot bunny that would not leave my brain. We'll see where this takes us.

She was Dotharl, and she was a man who had been born with a woman’s soul. She was an old soul, had seen much battle over her long years. She was Kore—a soul that had been seen not once in the history of her people until she had been born.

The way it had been told, when her eyes had first opened, none who beheld her had known her name. Not Dagasi, nor Mauci, nor Ilugei. Her skill in conjury and her ease with alchemy had not been Hagai's, nor was her fascination with fire that of Jormun's. Her eyes that saw into the past and brought to present that which had lain hidden within the soul had been not found within her people until she had been born. It was for this that none had dared to name her.

Her soul was no new one, and yet, her soul was unknown. She was unnamed until that fateful day her name given to them by Great Nhaama Herself, through the tongue-piece of the Mol.

 _Kore Dotharl_ , the aged Mol had proclaimed over her, when she had stepped onto the fields of Nadaam at her khan's side, nameless yet blooded in her seventeen summers.

She bore her name proudly, wore it upon her lips as she strode into battle with the beat of war tattooed upon her heart and lust etched into her steel. For they were the Undying; the fever in their veins could be quenched not by aught other than war. And yet--

Her soul was unknown to her people. Her past, unrecorded; her past deeds, unsung.

Who had Kore been? What history had she written to have been great enough to be reborn as Dotharl? Surely a warrior of unimaginable strength, whose indomitable spirit had been judged by Nhaama and found worthy of being made into Her child.

And so, Kore had resolved to herself that one day, she would find her past and to bring her history back to her people; she would not be a forgotten relic.

In her twentieth summer, khan Sadu had looked at her with his lazuli eyes and he had given her his approval-- _go forth_ , he had proclaimed with his quicksilver grin, _and forget not that you are Dotharl._

She was Dotharl, the mightiest of all the Azim Steppe, and she was Kore, a warrior of unimaginable strength.

She would not forget, not even as the moon came down and shattered the very earth in fire and flames.


	2. Chapter 2

In the years following the Calamity, Kore had come to wartorn Eorzea, scouring the lands for herself.

Othard had begotten her nothing. Kugane’s streets were paved in naught but goldlust, and Doma was yet subject to Garlemald: she would have found naught of her past while hindered by the Empire. In that respect, it had been her hope that she would find what she sought in this foreign land. However Eorzea yet had to give up its knowledge; her past remained elusive.

No whispers of her name could be found across any of the ruins that dotted Eorzea. Thanalan and its gold-rich sands failed to reveal her history; La Noscea and its sunken wrecks beheld not any mention of her name; it was now in Gridania that she searched.

Lush and verdant trees, the sky above blotted by leaves, it was a far cry from the open fields of the Steppe. The air was musty, its lands replete with small and large life hidden away in its multitude of shadows. Claustrophobic within the confines of its innumerable boughs, Kore was alien in this foreign land.

More alien still was she made in the face of its people.

Gridania was filled with gentle souls and peaceable men, and she began to suspect that her past would be found not here. Hers was a warrior's past, and she would not have begun in this forest-filled land of softened folk. However, something within her told her to linger--to stay her feet from her wandering.

And signs soon came.

* * *

A crystal of blue, scintillating and arresting, bound to her by means she could not understand. Papalymo and Yda, twin souls brimming with fervour, brought her once more to Thanalan where she met Minfilia.

Minfilia was a woman with eyes bluer than the sky, that were as blue as the crystal that chased after her time and time again; it was from Minfilia's lips that Kore's search began once more in earnest.

Her gift of seeing the past was called the Echo; a gift from the Eorzean god called Hydaelyn. Was she then an Eorzean given life once more by Nhaama?

Surely the Echo had followed her through her lives.

When she had asked Minfilia of those who had lived before them bearing the Echo, the woman had shook her head, and turned her away with her confessions of ignorance and her apologies.

Though it was a setback, it mattered not.

For bringing her worthy prey, the Scions were indeed allies that she could proudly call her own.

The first of her many foes: Ifrit, fiery demon He of the amalj'aa. Naught could have been a more worthy opponent to slay but a god Himself. His flames had seared her skin, and her flesh burned in Nhaama's name; fallen had she many times over--but she was Dotharl, and it was in battle that her soul sang.

It was in these flames that she was so forged, her blade honed and true. Eight times she fell, nine times she rose again, reborn in the cleansing flames of Ifrit's breath--and how her blood roiled within her veins as she stood over His body in victory!

And it was then that she first met that god called Hydaelyn, bequeathed with a red crystal that glimmered and gleamed with power.

 _Hear--feel--think_.

Oh, how she could hear and feel and think of the soaring fervour of battle! Ichor flowed from her wounds, and the Thanalan wind bit at her skin. She crawled not out of the Bowl of Flames, but strode out upon her two proud feet. And so, singed and scourged, her return to the Horizon was in triumph.

And oh, how the peoples of Thanalan recoiled as she arrived, so horrified by her monstrous strength. She was yet wreathed in Ifrit’s ash, and smoke spewed from her lips with each breath. She was a warrior of the Steppe, and she was Undying; death itself could not stop her.

Kore pushed open the doors to the Waking Sands. A scream heralded her arrival.

“--Kore! Your hair! Your skin...” Tataru cried out, her eyes wide in terror. “You’re injured! Y’shtola--come, quickly!”

And so, the Scions came forth, bursting into the room in horror and worry. And even they, her worthy allies, flinched back in the face of her might.

She stood there, blood and ash dressing her flesh and her skin mottled by the lasting touch of Ifrit’s flames. Pus and viscera dripped from the cracks in her flesh, and her hair, long though it had been, utterly incinerated. Her clothes, long since destroyed in Ifrit’s fire, were nowhere to be seen, and only a simple wrap kept her modesty. Her horns, inky as Nhaama’s night, were dull under its funereal wreath.

“--Did you _seriously_ walk all the way back here like this?” Papalymo asked, awe warring with disgust as he regarded the oozing wounds. “How are you still alive?!” Behind him, Minfilia clasped at her mouth in horror, her crystal eyes wide.

Kore laughed, even as Y’shtola’s aether came forth to heal her. She pushed away from the miqo’te, pushed away the woman’s attempts to heal her. She could have healed herself should she had wished it; she did not. These wounds she had sustained in her battle against Ifrit were her trophies and the lasting marks of her victory.

“How else am I to return, Scion?” She asked, boldly and decisively. “I have died a hundred times over--and I will ever come back, all the more stronger for it.”

They would soon come to understand what she meant.


	3. Chapter 3

However, it seemed that the Echo was useful for more than just seeing one’s past. Nights after Ifrit, battles innumerable since then, she found what being _Chosen_ meant.

She had watched in horror as her umbral skin restored itself anew under her eyes as she channeled healing aether into her wounds--leaving naught behind but smooth skin as all her scars faded. Ere her arrival at the Scions, her conjury had removed not the remnants of her battles… but now, her scars disappeared underneath the veil of ichor that still clung to her skin.

The yol's claws across her wrist, a Buduga’s axe upon her leg, Sadu's thunder blossomed upon her abdomen; they all faded before her eyes as her aether swept through her body. Ifrit's molten touch was the last to evanesce.

Her past, it seemed evident, was jealously guarded by the gods themselves. Her triumphs, too, were robbed by them, and she lost all of her current life's history with a simple spell.

She gnashed her teeth and screamed her fury into the air.

It was the fault of the crystal that Hydaelyn had so bequeathed unto her; there was no doubt as to what it was that had so changed in her conjury. Naught else could explain it.

Drawing the crystals from her bag, Kore threw them to the ground, making overtures to crush them beneath her feet--but she was stopped.

Minfilia, brave hyur she, removed the crystal she had obtained from Ifrit's corpse from the embrace of the floor and looked at her. Her blue eyes were wide, and her breath seemed shallow in shock.

"The Warrior of Light," Minfilia breathed softly, and had so named her past. "You're one of the Warriors of Light, Kore."

As her hair grew back, and her limbs came to be scarred once more, so too did her legend grow.

 _Kore_ , the land would doubtlessly whisper one day, _champion among champions_. With each challenge she met and destroyed, her soul rose, and so she had come to the assurance that her soul would be born anew when she one day died.

Then came one night where the question of her reason for coming to Eorzea was finally posed.

* * *

“My people are the Undying.” Kore stated proudly. “We Dotharl are born ever anew with each bairn that Nhaama so blesses us, and our souls continue ever-onward without end.”

The fascination upon Y’shtola’s face was clear to see; Urianger’s eyes, too, had turned towards her as she spoke.

“I fail to see how this is relevant to why you are here in Thanalan,” Y’shtola remarked blithely.

Dauntless, Kore continued on, ignoring the frown that etched itself upon the miqo’te’s countenance.

“I am not a new soul. However, my story began not with the Dotharl, instead coming from a foreign land. Eorzea, I suspect,” she added with no small amount of relish. A grin spread across Kore’s lips, eager in her pursuit for her past. “The Echo comes from Hydaelyn, and the secrets of my past lay within the Mother Crystal. I am meant to be here; tis the will of the Dusk Mother.”

The Scions around her were silent after she spoke.

“I regret to say this, but I don’t think it’ll be possible to recover your... past, Kore.” Minfilia murmured quietly in the darkness of the room. “You surely know of the Warriors of Light? Men and women whose faces have been veiled from all memory, whose names and deeds have fallen into obscurity by some magic. I… believe that you are unmistakably one of them. Hydaelyn has blessed you greatly, given you a Crystal of Light, and you are one of Her Chosen. You could be aught else.”

Kore was not so easily defeated.

“Then shall I ask Hydaelyn Herself,” she vowed, raising her chin. “I have been brought back for a reason; She cannot deny me of my past.”

She could see the glances so exchanged between the Scions, disbelief and scepticism evident in their averted gaze. It mattered not.

Regardless of their faithlessness in her pilgrimage, Kore would ever walk the path that Nhaama had set before her. She would find her past, and she would rise higher and mightier than all before her, for it was in her blood and written in her stars.

The moment lingered not, however.

“I prithee, wouldst thou tell us more about thy people?” Urianger asked. “I find mineself most curious as to thy people’s beliefs, in thy theories of reincarnation. I have heard naught of such beliefs elsewhere, Warrior.”

A fierce pride burned within her chest, and she thrust her hand forth, emphatically striking the air. “Only the greatest of us are allowed the honour of rebirth.” Kore exclaimed. “Our souls are that of Nhaama’s--battle and war are the beat of our heart, and glory is the water that nourishes us! To be Dotharl is to be mighty, to be _everlasting_.”

“And wouldst thou tell me of how it is that your people knoweth whose soul it is that resideth within the bairn?” Urianger continued to ask, leaning in.

“‘Tis the eyes,” Kore said. “The colour of our soul is so revealed within our eyes, and our name is spoken by our kin.”

She could feel the weight of his gaze linger upon her, but she wondered not what it was that so intrigued the man for Y'shtola had come forth with questions of her own, asking her of her birthplace, of the beauty of the Azim Steppe; of Nhaama and of Azim, who created all auri.

Mayhap later, she would think back to this moment and wonder at the shade of Urianger's eyes, and to wonder if he had the soul of a warrior past.


	4. Chapter 4

Moons later, they came to this sight:

Alphinaud's expression as he regarded her was one of horror. He should not have turned such a look towards her, when she had done naught wrong.

"You left their bodies out in the _desert_?" He asked, voice strained and pitched in his disbelief. "For the crows and beasts to feast upon?"

"They were valiant," Kore responded, shrugging. His horror would be a transient thing, but she cared not to humour it while it remained. "I saw the bodies that littered the Waking Sands; for every Scion cut down, two Garleans paid their dues. Fiercely they fought, and thus their souls have been released to await their time to return to the living; you needn't worry yourself over that. You may see them return in your own lifetime, or mayhap the next."

The boy continued to stare at her, mouth slack as he, for once, had not the words to say in response to her.

Kore smiled at him, and she reached out to place her hand upon his crown. She could feel how he startled under her hand, and she buried her fingers deeper into his hair, soothing him in the only manner she knew.

"Worry not for our friends who have died, Alphinaud, for they are ought to return. Worry moreso for those yet captured—recall them now, do you?” She grinned at his horrified stare. “Regardless, you were saying about our next quarry?"

Alphinaud had spoken of Ixali in Gridania ere he had asked her where she had brought the bodies of the Scions so that he could pay his respects to their empty corpses. However, despite her prompting, he remained silent, staring up at her with wide blue eyes. Behind him stood the recently discovered Cid, who also stared at her with conflict evident upon his countenance.

She sighed, and removed her hand from Alphinaud's head.

Eorzeans could be so easily startled.

* * *

Eventually, the boy spoke of the plans of the Ixal to summon their primal--and how could she refuse such an earnest gift from the Scion?

The excitement that it elicited was one that buoyed her, that carried her forth for there was yet another god to fell before her might, another measure of her worth for Nhaama to judge.

Ifrit had fallen, crumbling to ash, and Titan too had shattered under her might. Next would be Garuda, Her wings severed by her hand alone.

This effervescent feeling would dull not even in the face of Garuda's impossible winds; the Dusk Mother was ever with her, guiding her path and showing her the way to slice past the impenetrable barrier of the air.

They would leave for Gridania, where Cid's airship had last been seen, and upon securing both the _Enterprise_ and a method to cut through Garuda's winds, would she meet the primal in glorious battle.

* * *

As all things were in her life, it could not have been as easy as it could. Gridania held not the airship, for it had fallen far up north of the forest, in the icy wastes of Coerthas.

Coerthas was a land that Kore had yet to explore in her years upon Eorzea.

She looked around in wonder at the snow and the sheer whiteness of the land, at the tranquility begotten by the bite of the icy wind, and she knew surely that this was Nhaama's artistry alone. Azim had turned His countenance away from these frosted lands; it was evident in the lack of warmth in these lands.

The Azim Steppe had ever been temperate due to its proximity to the ocean, its winters mild and bringing naught but longer nights and chiller winds. Snow had been rare, found only upon the mountaintops when Nhaama had won back Her grip upon the Steppe from Azim.

As such, Kore would have marvelled at the seasons that Eorzea had, with its ever-changing sights and sounds, had the harsh bite of the wind not left her lips bluer and her fingertips like blocks; winter was an adversary she had yet to overcome.

Unclothed as she was in her closest approximation to the Dotharl's traditional dress, she was unshielded to the elements.

She bared her teeth to the wind, clutching desperately at her own limbs in a futile attempt to guard against the cold. Beside her, her companion was equally as pathetic, shivering as if a leaf in the wind as they trudged deeper into the snow.

Cold was setting in fast; she could not let it take her.

"Do you know not any spells of fire?" Kore hissed, thinking back to the licking flames that her khan could summon, and the ravenous magma of Ifrit's rage. Rage, rage, _rage._ "What is the use of studying all those books if it is all for nothing?"

Alphinaud flinched at her vitriol, and made feeble protestations against her words. "I am a _scholar!"_ He decried, "I study the arcane, not the elements!"

"And it is entirely useless outside of summoning your little rats!" Kore spat. "You are entirely pathetic, Scion!"

"Excuse me?" Alphinaud's expression blackened in offense, and she grinned at his outrage.

Anger would warm him from within, as her own rage fueled her onward. "Useless little boy," she continued to exclaim, "blessed with not a whit of brain! Silver is his hair and tongue and yet he has not a single substance to his person! You are not a man, lacking both manhood and bullocks!"

His expression turned queerly red, and he stared at her with warring conflict upon his countenance.

"Says the conjurer!" Alphinaud sputtered out. The wind whipped his hair into his eyes, and he swept at it furiously. "Aren't _you_ the one with a connection to the godsdarned elements? Shove your baseless accusations up your own arse, you bloody _demon_!"

Kore laughed joyously at his words, and his eyes widened.

"That's the spirit!" She cried in delight. "Let your fury grow, boy! Let it warm you from within!"

Alphinaud fell silent for a second, and he visibly grit his teeth—but she could see the moment he had realised her intentions.

His jaw relaxed and a smile crossed his lips; he let out another curse, voice filled with no small amount of irritation. "Twelves damn you, you auri bastard!" He said, eyes daring to meet hers. "You convoluted, _asshole_ of a man!"

Those words were awkward upon his tongue, as if he had never dared to speak such things before. Such innocence, such _privilege_.

"Louder, boy!" Kore exclaimed, teeth bared in challenge. "I can hardly hear your voice above the wind! Have you yet to become a man? All I can hear is the mewling of a pup crying for its mother's teat, yapping uselessly!"

Alphinaud seemed to swell up with her encouragement, each subsequent step he took becoming surer and less hindered by the cold.

"Hellsfire is the least you deserve!" He cried with a relish he had never dared before to show. He clenched his fists, and he near toppled from the force of his yells. “I would say heavens take you—but they wouldn’t take your rancid presence in their halls!”

Let it never be said that Alphinaud never tried his best.

“I shall make Dotharli out of you yet, boy!” Kore laughed, and she continued to laugh as they pressed through the snow and the wind, the sleet that fell upon their cold forms. Kindled within her breast was the fire of fury and companionship alike—but eventually, even that failed to keep her warm.

The wind blew once more, and caused ice to spread into her bones, chilling her to the very marrow.

She would deal with this no more.

Grabbing hold of the foolish boy, she held him to her front, using his form as a physical shield against the cold. For all his slight height compared to her own frame, he served most adequately as a windbreak.

"Kore!" The boy shrieked, countenance most reddened at her actions. Had he never felt a woman's touch in his life? How pitiful. "Unhand me! This is undignified!"

Her arm was braced tightly around his waist, and his feet touched not the floor as she continued to stride through the snow to the astrologian fort. He squirmed against her hold, grabbed at her wrist to attempt to pull her away.

"I am cold," she growled, "and you shall deal with the cards you have been dealt until I am no longer so."

His protestations would continue to fill the air until they reached that elezen fortress, and they would keep him warm. And so, with his warmth against hers, she too would stay warmer against the Coerthan winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kore is a horrible influence on Alphinaud.


	5. Chapter 5

Durendaire and Haillenarte and Dzemael--names upon names upon names that she cared not to remember. However, her search for the  _ Enterprise _ had her stalking across Coerthas’ icy wastelands, from fort to fort, tree to barren tree, to procure enough favour from these exact names to find Cid’s cursed airship.

Her appearance, xaela that she was, was apparently foreign to the Ishgardians and close enough to their mortal enemy that she was universally regarded as foe.

Had she not been accompanied by her foolish companion, she would have locked horns with the elezen bastards and fought them to show them her might--that dragons could match not the everlasting spirit of the Dotharl. They _might_ have made a substitute to the primal that Alphinaud had promised her, an inadequate substitute most likely, but it would have sated her enough to wait.

As it was, Alphinaud believed himself possessing some measure of control over her and had forbidden her from inciting any fights with the Ishgardians.

_ "We need them to find the _ Enterprise _!"_ He had remarked.

Nay, they didn't _need_ the Ishgardians at all. Nor did she care for his authority. However, she had been amused enough at the attempt. His eyes were blue enough to remind her of her khan and his hair just as white; she would defer to him this one time, and never again.

And so, impatiently she followed him across Coerthas and the innumerable errands they forced upon her.

It soon came to this: a plot against an Haillenarte, who then sent them away yet again to a Fortemps.

All of this was distraction from her hunt.

Garuda awaited her, awaited for the fated battle that was her right—and yet the Ishgardian knights and bastards alike would keep her from glory! The peoples of Eorzea were as convoluted as they were superfluous. Kore was now of the opinion that the Ishgardians were, mayhap, the worst of the lot.

At least now, rage was a luxury rather than necessity.

They were clothed in furs and layers to stave off the cold, and thus, she and Alphinaud were more equipped to weather the ice. It did not make the cold any easier to bear, however, and she bitterly awaited the time she could return to a warmer land.

As of that moment, Camp Dragonhead loomed before them.

Alphinaud clutched the letter of introduction desperately to his chest, as if it were a talisman to ward off spirits, just as tightly she held him to her side, using his form to stop the wind from reaching her.

"Fortemps is one of the four noble houses of Ishgard along with Durendaire," he stuttered out through whitened lips and numb tongue. "If this lord accepts us, we shall," he shivered, "we shall have gained a most powerful ally!"

She cared not for any alliance with a knife-eared prick from the north; she had two in her company already, Urianger and the boy by her side.

"If we find not Cid's airship within the next sennight, I shall return to Gridania and rip his spleen out through his mouth," Kore hissed. "We have tarried too long in this godsforsaken search."

Alphinaud looked up at her. Snow had crusted his eyelashes with white, and his skin had long since lost its flush. He could last maybe another bell or two, then they would have to seek shelter to stave off the deathly cold.

"While I wouldn't condone such violence towards Master Garlond… Indeed we have," he agreed. "We need to put Garuda down ere irreparable damage be done on this realm, and to retrieve our fellow Scions."

Such worries were mostly inconsequential for her, but she had tact enough to not comment upon it.

The Fortemps awaited them.

* * *

Kore drew eyes to herself with the wicked curve of her horns, her dark colouring stark against the snow. 

She stood six fulms tall, her hair long and unbound to stream in the wintry wind of the Coerthan highlands. The little skin that she had left open to the skies showed how scales and scars covered her skin liberally; her night-dark skin therefore marred by white and pink gashes that bespoke of many a battle.

She cared not for the way the elezen reviled her, recoiled from her appearance alone--for their fear of her appearance only bespoke of their weakness.

Speaking of weakness:

She grinned wickedly at a knight stationed nearby, and she watched how their grip tightened around their spear, their eyes darting to and from her countenance. Such nervousness reminded her of a prairie dog, scuttling away from even the slightest hint of danger regardless of whether it was the sound of another beast prowling above or the rustling of the grass in the wind.

What else could they see when they regarded her but a dragon made hyur-like?

Her tail lashed behind her, a violent whip's crack that caused that self-same knight to scowl and lower their weapon in threat. Turning her head, she could see how stragglers and other knights kept wary an eye upon her.

Their stone keep would not stand against her; they were right to fear her. For dragon or not, she was Dotharl.

Beside her, Alphinaud tutted--but she could see in the lilt of his lips the amusement he found in her posturing.

"We should not alienate our potential allies ere we have even spoken to them," he remarked quietly, even as they were approached by a nervous looking squire. "I trust you can contain yourself a little longer?"

She let out a harsh bark of laughter, causing the squire to flinch. "Do not presume to control me, boy," she replied loudly.

Alphinaud grinned at her. "I would never, my friend. One would hardly wish to be responsible for a beast so unruly as yourself."

Kore’s lips parted into an answering smile. His lips were blue and so were his eyes. Had he been so adorned with Nhaama’s touch, she could have easily called him brother.

“Go speak your flowery language at one who cares,” she replied, reaching out to tweak the tip of his ear.

Alphinaud all but leaped out of his own skin at the touch. He gasped, smacking her hand away to clutch possessively at his ears, glaring at her reproachfully. “Don’t do that! Ever!” He exclaimed.

Kore shrugged, unrepentant. “Then hurry yourself. If it will encourage you to tarry not, I shall do so as many times as I need.”

Alphinaud seemed to take her words to heart.

He scurried off, and spoke his silvered words to have them brought to the heart of the keep, wherein they were met with the Fortemps that had been spoken of by the shrinking violet of lordling.

* * *

Ensconced within stone walls and surrounded by guards who watched them warily, he was… unimpressive.

The lord of the keep had upon his wide lips a fool’s smile, far too welcoming to be anything but suspicious. He was Ishgardian, after all, and Eorzea knew all over that the elezen of the north were pricks ere they were aught else.

Kore lifted her chin, staring the man down. He met her gaze steadily, his smile never fading even as he regarded the strong curve of her horns, the scales that covered her throat.

Might would make apparent the weak from the strong.

"Ah, the unmistakable swagger of well-travelled adventurers… If you are here to come pay your respects, be at ease, friends. I am not one to stand on formality. Pray, tell me what is it that has brought you both here today?" The Fortemps asked, wide and guileless eyes regarding the two of them with naked curiosity.

Alphinaud held out the letter so given by the lordling, his expression solemn. “I believe that this letter shall make things clear, lord Haurchefant.”

Was that the elezen’s name?

Kore continued to survey the lord as he took hold of the letter with a word of thanks to the boy, opening it up to read it. The name suited him. Pretentious and wordy.

A moment later, the man set the letter down.

“--If there is any justice in this world, these charges will receive no serious consideration,” the elezen stated. “It is beyond  _ inconceivable. _ But--yes, the letter made mention of a pressing matter for which you required assistance. What might that be?” He then asked.

Alphinaud parted his lips to speak, but Kore was faster.

“--The  _ Enterprise _ .” She stated firmly.

The elezen looked at her in surprise, but Alphinaud was swift to take advantage of her following silence to say, “We came to Coerthas in search for the  _ Enterprise _ , which had been missing since before the Calamity five years past…” And he continued to describe the circumstances that led them to this point, talk that was far too pointless for that moment.

Kore placed her hand upon Alphinaud’s crown, silencing him and his endless stream of words.

The elezen before them had the faintest of smiles on his face as he watched them.

“--Yes, I am familiar with this  _ Enterprise _ . I fear that it may prove difficult to find eyewitnesses to these events, for while Ishgard did not participate in the Battle of Carteneau, we were embroiled in our own internal conflicts at the time,” the elezen said warmly. “Nevertheless, I will make inquiries on your behalf and share with you my findings in the future.”

Kore raised a sceptical eyebrow at his words. They rose all the higher when the man continued to speak.

“In the meantime, please enjoy the hospitality of Camp Dragonhead. As a guest of House Fortemps, I will see that you are afforded  _ every _ courtesy!”

Even Alphinaud seemed stunned by the generosity of his words, and he parted his lips to thank the man quietly.

Kore was not so convinced at the sincerity of his offer, not even as he spoke of their need to seek out yet again  _ more _ elezen across the wastelands of the north to secure whatever help that could be promised to them.

She grimaced, turning her head away.

Yet  _ more _ errands, keeping her from her promised prize. Why was she not surprised?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an obvious bias. Bear with me.


	6. Chapter 6

Nothing came to pass from the elezen to whom they had been sent, and Kore gnashed her teeth in impotent rage as they returned to Camp Dragonhead with no new information than what they already possessed ere arriving in Coerthas.

She had been patient thus far. However, her patience had frayed significantly in the time they spent in the frozen wastes of the north.

Beside her, Alphinaud’s countenance was pale--paler than the cold could account for, and he watched her warily from the corner of his eyes.

“--I shall do the talking,” he said softly, as they passed through the front gates of the Camp. “You needn’t say a word to the lord about our failures.” Under the wary eyes of the Fortemps knights, they strode towards the main keep.

Kore’s eyes flashed towards those elezen, and promptly she bared her teeth at them, relishing in how they flinched back from her stare. Satisfaction prickled up within her, abating her rage if only slightly, dulling its sharp edges and mellowing her minutely.

The exchange did not go unnoticed, however.

“In fact, how about you go, uh, try to relax somewhere? Lord Haurchefant _has_ given us leave to enjoy what hospitality can be offered to us here.” Alphinaud was quick to state.

Kore looked at the boy, and saw the earnest request in his eyes--and the blatant worry that lingered in the corners of his lips.

Did he expect her to burst out in violence upon seeing the face of the man that had sent them on a fruitless quest? Mayhap one who knew her less than her fellow Dotharl would assume such things. However, she and the rest of her clansmen had learned to hone their rage, to channel it to aid them in battle.

She would not be overcome by something as simple as _anger_.

“I will not strike down your elezen lord when he speaks.” Kore murmured, the faintest bubbling of mirth rising within her. “I am full of anger, not _idiocy_. However, you may be right.”

She smiled at him, reaching out to tug at his coiffed hair.

“You will join me after you have spoken with the man, and we shall enjoy the hospitality of the knights," she stated decisively.

Alphinaud looked at her, and warier still did his countenance become at her words. He seemed to care not anymore that she tugged roughly at his hair, having gotten used to her manhandling.

“--I feel that I might regret agreeing with your proposal,” he remarked, quietly, but he lifted his chin. “Fine. Where shall we meet?”

Kore grinned, and she released his hair from her fingers. “You shall hear it, if not see it.”

The widening of his eyes was the very act that sealed her sudden decision.

Even as he spoke up, demanding her plaintively, “What do you mean? What do you mean by that?!” she laughed as she walked off, leaving him to deal with the elezen lord alone.

* * *

A bell later, it came to this:

“Kore!” Alphinaud’s cry was predictably shrill. “What are you _doing_?!”

Currently locked in battle, she answered him not, her cane raised before her as she warded off two of the Camp’s knights with her aether alone.

Stunned they were by the violent burst of her magic, but it seemed that they had some manner of skill as they swiftly shook off their surprise.

Nevertheless, their pause had given her enough time to prepare her next move. She let out a yowl of triumph as she slammed her cane down, stones rising at her behest to entrap one of the knights by their boots--and the other was swiftly beset by wind.

Howling gales thus spun around the knight, a thousand thousand of cuts blooming where the wind touched. Blood painted the wind red, and stained the snow packed beneath their feet.

She raised her staff, glowing with a malevolent delight as she twisted her aether, calling forth the ice of the wastes around them--

And finally came the cry of defeat from the one now encased in rock. “ _Yield!_ We yield!”

Kore’s countenance twisted in disgust, but she lowered her cane. Her aether dissipated, as did the snow she had begun to summon.

Not even once had the two knights come close to death, and Kore herself barely touched by their arrows and their swords. This venture of hers, it seemed, was as useless as she had dared not to believe. A waste of time, and more infuriatingly, a waste of her magic.

The knights defeated stumbled to their feet, and with much grudging did she throw a spell at them, healing them of their more serious injuries--and she ignored their hesitant words of thanks.

She turned her back on the worthless knights of Ishgard to move to Alphinaud’s side.. It was then that she noticed how behind him stood the lord of the keep, who watched her with unabashed interest.

Alphinaud, however, had an expression that was caught between horror, amusement and thoughtfulness. He fussed over the inconsequential cuts upon her cheek and arms, but deemed it unnecessary to heal with aether--and so was she allowed to keep her scars for a little while longer.

“When I bid you leave to enjoy the hospitality of the keep, I should have expected you to seek out knights to fight… bloodthirsty coeurl that you are.” Alphinaud remarked finally. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Kore sent him a mullish glower. “--Nay. They are as weak as you, boy. There is no enjoyment to be found in throwing kittens at walls.”

Alphinaud’s subsequent splutter was expected, and he swelled up in offense. Ere he could speak, the lord beside him spoke in his stead.

“I would apologise on behalf of my men that they were found to be inadequate sport to one as skillful as you, adventurer. So-called weakness of the knights aside, I am full glad to see how the knights have relaxed around you,” the lord smiled at her. “Sparring with them was a stroke of genius.”

Kore looked up towards the heavens to avoid meeting his gaze. The day was no longer young but Nhaama had yet to rise, for Azim clung selfishly to the skies and painting a harsh red all that He touched.

“That was not my intention,” she stated brusquely. She cared not for the knights of Ishgard, nor her relationship with any of them. She, instead, had prepositioned the knights to fight her to take measure of their might--and she found them severely lacking.

There would indeed be no sport to be had in Ishgard, if this was the best that they could offer her.

“Anyhow—lord Haurchefant had come to us with a personal request,” Alphinaud spoke up. "Apparently, Lord Francel--the man who gave us the introductory letter, by the way--has departed for the Steel Vigil with a small company of men. We are to find him and to offer our support should he need it."

Kore glanced over at her companion, and Alphinaud shrugged at her, seemingly unaffected by her baleful stare.

"We may encounter no small number of Dravanians, according to Lord Haurchefant's account. The Vigil is overrun by dragons."

As meaningless as fulfilling this request would be, she hadn't tested herself against such beasts yet.

"Then let us away," she muttered curtly, offering no nod of greeting to the Ishgardian lord as she departed. "Come, Alphinaud."

Despite her manner, behind them, she could hear his cheerful voice rise in gratitude and well wishes. Beside her, Alphinaud glanced up at her with a thoughtful look upon his countenance.

* * *

Steel Vigil was beset with aevis and elezen alike, supposedly. However, before them stood only one of each.

Kore watched rather dispassionately how the elezen lordling they had been searching for scrambled back, eyes wide with abject fear as the Dravanian before him approached slowly in surety of its success.

The elezen was unarmed, his weapon cast aside a fulm or two away. He would surely be dead if nothing intervened.

A hand grabbed at her forearm; Alphinaud stared up at her with wide eyes. "Kore! We need to do something!"

She glanced down at him.

"Why do you expect me to be the one to act first?" Kore asked mildly. Ere he could respond, she continued, watching intently at how the dragon's tail lashed triumphantly behind itself. "The weak die; that is the fate of man."

Alphinaud looked outraged. "But we're here! We can do something to prevent this!"

She tilted her head to the side.

"Then go." She gestured at the elezen. "Prevent his death. Be the saviour that you so desire to see."

The boy looked horrified by her suggestion, hesitating. And that one moment cost him much: the elezen lordling cried out in agonising pain as the aevis bore down upon him, claws tearing through his armour with ease.

It was then that Kore strode forth, her cane lazily outstretched before herself.

A twist of her aether pulled at the aevis, icy winds battering at its iron scales and ripping them free from its tough flesh. It roared in pain, much like the elezen had, and whirled around to face her.

It was almost disappointing how simple it was to dispatch the beast.

Slamming her cane to the floor, a spire of rocks promptly thrust up from the ground, impaling the beast through its middle.

The sound of its wheezing breaths signaled its end, and Kore lowered her cane one more.

The aevis fell limply to the ground, a pool of its draconic blood staining the snow beneath it.

Even as the beast fell, the boy rushed forward to tend to the fallen lordling, healing magic emanating from his hands to cure the sluggishly bleeding wounds across the elezen's chest.

"Lord Francel?" Alphinaud asked worriedly. "Are you--?"

"Halone be praised, you did it! Thank you," the elezen gasped out, eyes wide. "You saved my life--a second time. But what of the others? The three knights who accompanied me--where are they!?"

Alphinaud cast a horrified gaze around. He could hear the hissing of the aevis just as well as Kore could. “Kore--please, go look for them. I must needs continue to attend to Lord Francel’s wounds.”

She let out a soft snort, derisive in both manner and tone of her response.

Turning on her heel, she strode off across the snow to search for the so-called knights that the elezen so worried over.

The knights, unfit and cowering against the cold walls of the Vigil, recoiled upon seeing her approach. One in particular shrieked, the whites of his eyes visible in his abject terror.

Had she truly been Dravanian, she would not have toyed with him so, striking to kill the moment she saw his weakness. Instead, she had kicked at him, calling upon him to return to his master.

The reminder of the boy seemed to stir the knights from their stupor.

And so, one after the other, they returned, slinking away from her as if a pup with its tail between its legs.

House Haillenarte would be disappointed by the quality of their knights. It was fitting that they were not auri as she was; they would have surely been driven out of their tribe if they showed any less of a spine than they had this very day.

Of them all, only the lordling seemed to have sustained any manner of injury.

Kore strode back to Alphinaud slowly with three knights in tow, watching how her companion sighed in what seemed like relief as he looked over his fellow elezen's wounds.

“--It was a foolish thing to do, I know,” the elezen could be heard murmuring as she approached, “but I had hoped we might demonstrate our devotion by slaying a number of the scalekin. Moreover, it was House Haillenarte that yielded this Vigil to the Horde many years ago. One might say that our defeat here heralded the slow decline of our house’s once-great name.”

Kore soon lost interest in the boy’s words, and she looked away, looking over the white landscape that so covered Coerthas. The wind blew, carrying away all sound of his endless drivel.

Alphinaud, in contrast, listened to the lordling with great rapture, his hands no longer emanating with aether. The wounds seemed to have healed adequately, but the elezen would be forever marked with the touch of the aevis.

Kore rather envied him that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I like my elezen a little too much. Hmst.


	7. Chapter 7

Alphinaud spoke not a word to her since that moment, after having escorted the lordling and his quivering kittens for knights from Steel Vigil. Kore cared not to disturb his silence, keeping her eye out for any aevis that would dare come close to then.

It was a shame that they stayed far away. They walked in relative peace, with only the howling wind to break the quiet.

Upon their return to Camp Dragonhead, it became clear that they would have to wait further until they were finally able to secure _Enterprise_ , for the sole witness to the airship’s crash was an idiot.

Kore, with much ill grace, stood to the side as her companion and the Fortemps plotted with one another to coax said witness to regain his lost wits.

At the very least, the guileless lord seemed to be making true on his promise to aid them in their search. Nevertheless, she trusted not the smile on his face, nor the moue that so often crossed his lips whenever he thought over his words.

Garuda seemed yalms away now, barred from her by endless distances of Ishgardian elezens and insensible hereticism. Her very appearance worked against her, and for once in her life, Kore cursed the curved horns that crowned her head, and the scales that covered her skin.

Mayhap, had she looked less auri, they would have secured the _Enterprise_ by now. Mayhap, had she been less tolerant of Alphinaud's politicking, she would have ran through every Ishgardian in her way and found the _Enterprise_ on her lonesome.

As it was, they had yet another errand to go on, to secure the trust of this witness and to prove themselves as ones who were not heretics.

It was as they prepared to set off to fulfil whatever errand that Alphinaud saw fit for them to carry out, that the boy finally looked at her.

Since their rescuing of the hapless elezen lord, he had staunchly refused to meet her gaze, instead pretending as if he hadn't some form of grievance against her.

He seemed to have grown himself a set and would finally confront her about whatever it was that plagued his thoughts.

"You--you could have saved Francel from the start, preventing him from becoming so injured and scarred. Why didn't you?" Alphinaud demanded, once ensconced within the relative privacy of their rooms at Camp Dragonhead.

Kore glanced down at him. "Why did you not go yourself? Are you so dependent upon my lead to stir yourself from inaction?"

"I…" The boy fell silent, conflict evident upon his countenance.

She rolled her eyes. No doubt he believed her to be a paragon of sorts. "I am no hero, boy. You call me the Warrior of Light, but that is naught more than a title that possessing that crystal bestowed upon me. Whatever these _Warriors of Light_ mean to you mean nothing to me. Mine actions are but what I wish to do."

Kore, however, would not lie. She did wish to uncover what exactly it meant to be a Warrior of Light, and to discover what it was that she was meant to be. She wished to know who she once was, in a time long forgotten by all men save for the Mother Crystal.

"Do you have no compassion for the common man?" The boy then asked, having changed tact in his silent contemplation. "Did you want to see him get hurt? That is inordinately cruel, even for you."

"I have as much compassion as I wish to spare," Kore replied, shrugging. "I care not for the elezen here. Whether one or fifty die, I would not shed a tear. Call me cruel if you wish." She paused, regarding him curiously. "However, I would ask the same of you, Alphinaud. If you would imply that I am dispassionate for not moving to save the man when I could, then you would be the same, would you not? You had the same opportunity as I to prevent the dragon from attacking."

And here was the crux of the matter: the boy flinched, unable to come up with an adequate reason to answer her.

She thought it simple. The boy simply had not the courage to be that hero that he clearly wished for her to be in his stead. He certainly had the skill for it, merely naught of the willpower.

The boy let out a soft, shaky sigh. Then he smiled at her, a fragile expression upon his youthful countenance.

"Looking at you, and knowing what I do of you," Alphinaud began softly, "I would not have taken you as one for debate. You're surprisingly astute, Kore."

Kore smiled at the thought of being as argumentative as the boy in front of her. She reached out and pushed the top of his head, causing him to stumble in his surprise.

"Go and bathe ere we set out. If I can smell your stench, so too can the rest of Coerthas."

His cry of outrage filled the room, and her mocking laughter followed him as he departed for the bathhouse.

* * *

After such livery came the seemingly endless drivel of the Ishgardians. The most prominent of this monotonous series of errands were these: the Witchdrop and the aevis that bloomed from elezen skin, saving the lordling from his Ishgardian wreck of a trial, the location of a cold and brittle body at the bottom of the ravine to reveal that the inquisitor was as farcical as the trials, and finally, _finally_ being able to locate the _Enterprise_ in the heart of Stone Vigil--

Kore could feel her heart soar once more at the hope that she would finally set out against the primal god of the Ixal.

She barely awaited Alphinaud and Cid to finish speaking with the elezen ere she departed from Whitebrim for the Stone Vigil, striding forth at the van of their party.

Through snow and mist she led their way near-unerringly to the Vigil, ignoring how Cid complained at her punishing pace, and Alphinaud occasionally called out for them to stop to allow him to catch up.

Kore ignored their calls and complaints, and continued on, her eyes fixed upon the keep where Cid’s fallen airship lay.

Alphinaud would grow into his stride one day; the boy was yet young. One day, he would be able to match her pace for pace. Cid, however… He would have no hope in growing even an ilm more.

She stood awaiting impatiently at the zenith of the hill, upon which the Stone Vigil stood.

“This is it,” Alphinaud panted out when he had caught up to her. At his side, Cid looked equally as winded, his countenance pink with exertion. “Allow me to speak with the guard—I have the permissions that Lord Drillemont gave me that should allow us in.”

Kore lifted her chin. “Catch your breath ere you speak, lest the guard mistake your words for mewling.”

Alphinaud shot her a fearsome stare. “And whose fault is it that I am so out of breath?” He retorted.

“Tis your own lack of fitness,” was Kore’s cool response, and she looked away to the front doors of the keep.

They would not stay locked for long.

* * *

With far too much vigour than befitted their foe, she had thrown herself forth into the fray, laughing cheerfully as she cut down dragon after dragon. Spell after spell she cast, and though her aether depleted rapidly, she remained ever-strong in the face of her prey, meeting each foe with a wide grin upon her face.

She leapt over the fallen stone, skid across the ice—and she threw herself forward, even as fire reigned down from above.

Behind her, Alphinaud raised his book in steadfast support, eyebrows furrowed as he sent his magic rat ahead to fight in his stead.

The blue glow from the rat was distracting; Kore resolved not to watch it as it darted forth to throw unaspected magic into the face of a dravanian.

“You fight like a madman!” Cid called out, half in wonder and half in fear from behind her, doubtlessly cowering behind some rubble like an unblooded child. “Alphinaud—have you not told him to moderate himself?!”

“Nay— _you_ try denying the Warrior when he looks like he would gut you with his bare hands!” Alphinaud’s response came snappishly.

“You’ve not enough gut to interest me, boy! There is naught to grab, and naught to relish!” Kore laughed, and she spun upon her heel, her aether emanating around her like a miasma, a tidal wave, stunning those around her into stillness.

Cid took advantage of this stillness. He had some magitek contraption in his hand to protect himself, and upon lifting the device, fire shot out from its end, searing the flesh of their foes.

“Eat this!” The Garlean cried, triumph threading itself into his voice for the first time since they entered the Vigil. “How’d you like it hot?”

The smell, so reminiscent to Ifrit and his magma, had her grin.

Ere long, they found the airship—behind the largest dragon within the keep. It slumbered, its blue form mountainous within the keep’s broken walls.

Beside her, Alphinaud regarded her, and he let out a sigh. “Kore—please, I beg of you—the dragon is _not_ of our concern. Allow Cid and I to—”

He should have known her by now.

So voracious was Kore’s appetite for destruction that she waited not for her companions to steal towards the ship.

Thrusting her cane forth, she called forth stone to trap the slumbering beast, even as Cid let out a string of curses and Alphinaud hissed her name. She bared her teeth in fierce delight, and she jumped forth towards the dragon even as it summoned its ice and brought it to bear upon her.

Yes; the fight today would satisfy her soul until she could finally lay eyes upon Garuda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the by, Kore doesn’t really care about people perceiving her as her correct gender. It’s Just Dotharl Things(tm) to ignore the misgendering and to continue on with their lives, as seen w/ Koko and Sadu in-game. What’s more important than what lies between one’s legs is the blood you can spill in battle and the revelry of the soul in war. U.U
> 
> And yes, Kore prevented Lahabrea from getting his little moment of glory. RIP, Lahabrea.

**Author's Note:**

> Winks and shamelessly promotes the Azem fanzine, The Sun's Journey, that I'm modding @ [FFXIVAzemZine](https://twitter.com/FFXIVAzemZine). Applications are closed, but please await future news!
> 
> I'm also found on Twitter @ [nymmiah](https://twitter.com/nymmiah), where I occasionally upload sketches and ideas.


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